The Grumpy Roommate Gamble (Heroes of Huckleberry Creek #1)

14. Felicity

FOURTEEN

FELICITY

I startled awake sometime in the wee hours, disoriented. Some sound had roused me, and I lay there listening, straining to figure out what. A breath that wasn’t mine interrupted the silence. Not from the other side of the room but beside me in the bed I realized now wasn’t my own.

Gabe.

In a flash, it all came flooding back. The long, blissful hours we’d spent here, feasting on each other until hunger had driven us downstairs to refuel. We hadn’t been able to wait even for the carbonara, settling instead for scrambled eggs and toast. Then we’d come back upstairs and fallen on each other all over again, insatiable. I’d wondered what it would be like to have all that focus directed at me, and now I knew. It was utterly glorious. I was happy and a little sore in places I’d forgotten existed, and I’d gotten very little sleep. I knew I’d be feeling the effects of that during work today. But I couldn’t find it in me to regret a single moment. Being with Gabe had been absolutely incredible and more than worth the wait.

Thinking of everything that had passed between us, heat built low in my belly, and I wanted him yet again. I considered turning to him, seducing him awake for more passion. But he needed sleep, too. And anyway, we had time. This wasn’t some one-time tryst. We were building something here. I felt it in my bones.

The knowledge of that left me with a sense of fizzy, effervescent excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning. I’d never felt like this before. Sex, intimacy, relationships… none of them had ever been like this. Not that there’d been that many others. But it had to be love that made the difference. Because I did love him. This gruff but kind and secretly sweet man, who’d gone to so much trouble to give me back something I’d lost.

Beside me, Gabe suddenly jerked.

“Gabe?”

He didn’t answer, his body continuing to thrash in the sheets. “No. No!”

Nightmare.

Intent on waking him, I rolled over, laying a hand on whatever part of him I could reach. “Baby, wake?—”

He surged up with a roar, and suddenly I was on my back, his forearm pressed against my throat hard enough to cut off most of my air supply. I couldn’t speak, so I groped along his arms, his shoulders, until I could frame his face. My eyes watered as I tried to gasp his name, to will him awake.

Abruptly, he went still.

Then he scrambled up and off me so fast, he actually fell off the bed, crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I coughed as blessed air surged back into my lungs.

Gabe scuttled backward, away from me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The words almost sobbed out.

I resisted the urge to rub at my throat because I instinctively knew that would make this whole situation worse. Instead, I rasped, “I’m okay. It’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”

I turned on the bedside light and grabbed my glasses. He sat back to the wall, on the other side of the room, knees drawn up to his chest. His hair stood on end, and his breath heaved.

Driven to soothe, I threw back the covers and started to go to him.

“Don’t!” The word snapped like a whip, halting my motion.

His throat worked as he swallowed, and it seemed all the blood had drained from his face.

“I—Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

I could still feel the phantom press of his arm across my throat. “No. You startled me, is all. It’s okay.”

With a slow, shuddering exhale, he dropped his face into his hands.

“What were you dreaming about?” I murmured. Was this new? Or did he have nightmares often? I’d never heard him before, but that didn’t mean anything.

Gabe only shook his head. This whole situation obviously deeply disturbed him. I expected it would give me pause, too. Later. Right now, I was only concerned with comforting him.

Understanding he didn’t want to be touched right now, I tried again. “Why don’t I make you some tea?”

“No.”

“Coffee?” I doubted either of us would go back to sleep, so caffeine hardly mattered.

“No,” he repeated, scrambling to his feet. He yanked open dresser drawers, dragging on track pants and a T-shirt. Jamming his feet into running shoes without even any socks, he strode for the door. “I’m going for a run.”

Without another word, he walked out. His feet thumped down the stairs. Then the front door opened and closed, and I was alone, naked in his bed, without the first clue how to process any of what had just happened.

He obviously had some kind of trauma that hadn’t been dealt with. I could only assume it had something to do with his time in the Army. Maybe this last deployment. I’d heard rumors around town that their unit had been attacked, though Gabe himself had said nothing about what he’d been through. I hadn’t felt as if I could ask, and it hadn’t seemed especially relevant before.

It sure as hell felt relevant now.

Scooping a hand through my hair, I glanced at the clock. 4:13 in the morning. There wasn’t a chance I was going back to sleep after all this, so I got up, swiping one of his button-down flannel shirts to put on, and headed downstairs. He might not want tea, but I certainly did.

On autopilot, I went through the ritual of putting on the kettle, prepping the leaves in an infuser. Not until I held the mug, warm between my palms, did I settle at the kitchen table to try to untangle my thoughts. I could only hope that by the time he came home, I’d have a clearer idea of how to navigate this.